There were times when I just stared goggle-eyed at the stage which by a colossal fluke happened to be not so far – a few feet away – from my perch on the first floor tier, immediately stage-right. There he was, Beatle-booted, luxuriant of moptop and leaping about like a spring lamb. Paul McSoddingCartney. Despite being a hardcore Fab-head for 30 years, this was the first time I had ever seen him live. By gum. Old hands at these gigs – and there were many, by the looks of the banners, binoculars and mutters over the setlist – might disdain such naïve joy, but really, the whole evening was absolutely magical.
They bounded on, waving and grinning and it was straight into ‘Eight Days A Week’ ,’Save Us’ and then ‘Got To Get You Into My Life.’ It was during the latter I had one of quite a few funny turns. I remembered first hearing ‘Revolver’, aged about 11, with some older lads sneering knowledgeably that this might all be a bit over my head.
The voice, occasionally breaking into a croak, was instantly recognisable. Much much better than I had dared hoped » Continue Reading.